Darkworld
by Philip S
Summary: Sometimes things go wrong. Sometimes the bad guys win. And sometimes the only heroes left in a world gone wrong... are but the lesser evils.
1. Enter the Heroes

Enter the Heroes (A Darkworld Tale)

Enter the Heroes (A Darkworld Tale)

By Philip S.

Summary: In a country ruled by the ascended Mayor Wilkins and the Vampire Lord Angelus, the Powers That Be are forced to recruit some unlikely individuals as their warriors.

Spoilers: This is an AU that branches off from canon Buffy in late Season 3. Spoilers up to that point.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Buffy and associated characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The concept of Darkworld belongs to Yours Truly.

--

Los Angeles, 2005

Sometimes life stinks, you know?

I'm probably not telling you anything you don't know, seeing as we're all living in a world that has gone straight to hell these last few years. So I'll understand if you might be a bit skeptical when I tell you that my life is a lot stranger now than it was just a few months ago.

I mean, how much stranger could it get? I remember the world like it was in early 1999. Normal. Nice. More or less peaceful. A world we could all understand. A world that made sense. Sure, by now I know that things were brewing under the surface even then, but I didn't know about any of that back then.

My name, by the way, is Doyle. Back then, I was happy. I had a job I liked, I had a beautiful wife I loved, we were even thinking of having a child or two. The world was a good place. Or so we thought.

Then it happened. No one saw it coming. An invasion, not from outer space, not from a foreign country, not even from radical terrorists or something like that. Instead the invasion came from a little suburban town that no one outside it had ever heard from before. Of course we all know its name now.

Sunnydale. Capital of this new America.

Half of it anyway. According to the latest news Wilkins' troops are held this side of the Mississippi Wall, their advance stalled by the threat of nuclear retaliation.

I'm digressing, though. You all know the story of how America fell to an army of demons, led by a thing that was once a man. You all know Wilkins' face, smiling down on us from video screens and posters. This isn't a story about Wilkins.

In the farthest sense this story is about Wilkins' closest ally, or at least that is what he was during the takeover. Nowadays, of course, Angelus does his own thing. In his own realm.

That's where I'm living. Los Angeles. One of the cities that Wilkins was forced to cede to Angelus during their falling out. Los Angelus, some people call it. A city ruled by vampires. Is that better or worse than a place ruled by Wilkins and his demons? Beats me. I have stayed here ever since Angelus took over and I never left, not even for a day.

Harry did, of course. My wife. She headed east when the fighting began. I didn't go with her, even though I wanted to do. That was my own personal tragedy against the background of the larger one that befell this country. I couldn't go with my wife because when the two of us were attacked by demons during our planned flight from Los Angeles I discovered that I had no business being among humans.

I am not. Not human. Not quite demon, either. I'm something stuck between, something that is half of both and belongs to neither. I have since found others of my kind, hybrids, half-demons, and none of them has a place anywhere in this new world.

When I first slipped into my demon face, using superhuman strength so save the two of us, Harry ran from me. She ran, screaming, deathly afraid of what I had become.

I hope she made it out safely.

I stayed. At least here, among demons, I won't get shot on sight. I can pass for human, but not a hundred percent, as evident by my unfortunate habit to slip into demon face when I have to sneeze. According to the sketchy news we receive from what is left of the United States the people there have adopted a shoot first, ask questions later philosophy when it comes to everything that is not quite human.

I really can't blame them.

Coming back to my original point: Here I am, a half-demon, living in a city ruled by a ruthless vampire, living in a country torn apart by a civil war right out of the darkest fairy tales. So you might ask yourself, how could my life become even stranger than that?

Well, it can, believe me. To understand exactly what happened, you have to understand a few things about the closest thing to a social structure we have around here these days. Vampires and other demons, they really don't like each other. Demons don't like vamps because they are demons housed inside human bodies, which supposedly makes them inferior. Vampires don't like other demons because of their snotty arrogance toward them. So, to continue that thought, now that the vampires are the ones running the show, you can probably imagine that they might take the opportunity to practice a little snotty arrogance of their own.

To make a long matter short, vampires hunt other demons. At least all those that are not strong enough to smash them into paste without straining a muscle. Which means that pretty much all of us half-demons are on their list.

A fellow half-demon, half Brakken like myself, was asking for my help. Vampires were after him and his family. Unlike me neither of them could pass for human, which is normally my way out of a tight squabble. Vampires only go after humans when they're hungry. They go after half-demons as a matter of principle.

I didn't help him. I had enough problems of my own. So I sent him away. Half a day later they were dead, the entire family. And I learned that through a vision.

Crap, eh? Yeah, that's what I thought, too.

I've figured out a few things since then. The visions are real, not some sign of me finally going nuts, and they are sent to me by something or someone called the Powers That Be. Some kind of higher force. God, maybe. I don't know exactly. And the fact that they are always accompanied by searing pain that seems to split my skull in two isn't helping the matter much, either.

The visions tell me I've got a mission. An honest-to-God holy mission. It seems the Powers That Be are not too fond of the world in its current state. Welcome to the club. So they want me to change it. Or, to be more precise, they want me to recruit and guide a few people to do that.

After getting over my long-lasting bout of disbelief, followed by a temper tantrum and a few rounds of drinking myself into oblivion, I realized that I didn't have much of a choice in the matter. The visions didn't leave me alone and, let's be honest, what else was I doing with my life? If I could somehow do something to make this shit of a world a better place ... okay, I would look into it and then decide.

The visions showed me two guys I was supposed to recruit for the cause. This pretty much leads us to where I am right now. Enough with the back story, no time like the present.

This is a bar, easily recognizable by the drunken patrons, the dingy interior, and the smell of booze. I've seen the insides of many, many bars in the last six years, let me tell you. Most of the times I was one of those drunken patrons myself. Very drunk. Not today, though. No, today I'm here on the holy mission thing.

One of the guys I am looking for is already here. In fact he sits about three meters to my right, leaning on the bar just like me, a drink in his hand, a faraway look in his eyes. A young man, no older than 24 or so, but with a look in his eyes that makes him seem thrice that age. Short-cropped black hair, beard stubble on his cheeks, dressed in what might have been a fine pair of blue jeans and a mildly expensive leather jacket a few years ago.

This bar, to get back to it for a moment, is a neutral place. One of the few such places around. The only other one I know in this town is Caritas and I'd rather be there right now, even though I hate Karaoke. This place here is called the Evil Eye, probably named after the one-eyed witch (that is witch, with 'w', not 'b', though some people mix it up on purpose) to whom it belongs, and people who try violence in here tend to get disfiguring warts, terminal syphilis, and other such pleasant surprises. So no one fights. We're all just here for a drink, whether we are human, demon, or something in between.

My boy here, the 'warrior' I'm supposed to recruit, he's human. It's come to the point where I can smell such stuff. Pure human, not even a single gene of demon in him, no supernatural booga booga about him, either. Of course I could start wondering right now, wondering how a mere human is supposed to change the world.

If I do that I'd go running for the hills in a second, so I won't.

Would be a bit late, too, seeing as the second guy has just come in through the door. And he certainly isn't human. Hasn't been in a long time, judging by the smell of him.

"Gimme a cold one, Eve!" The vampire leans on the bar, looking pretty worn down himself. The long leather coat he wears has seen better days. About half a century ago, maybe. His hair is bleached within an inch of its life, his skin almost as pale. I know him, of course, as does pretty much everyone here in Los Angeles.

It's hard not to remember a guy who is worth a small fortune, dead or undead.

Spike. William the Bloody, member of the famed Aurelius family of vampires. Childe or grandchilde of the city's master, Angelus. No one is quite clear on that one and those that know are not telling. What everyone knows, though, is that Angelus isn't very fond of his bleached offspring. Spike's got a bounty on his head, large enough to tempt many a man or demon. Rumor has it that Spike betrayed Angelus, helped the Slayer defeat him.

Which would be an exercise in irony, seeing where the Slayer is now.

So I have them both here. Spike, a vampire, and a human by the name of Alexander Harris. And the Powers That Be want them to work together for the betterment of the world.

Of course they never told me how I was to sell that to these guys.

I'm about to rise, give it the old college try, when Harris looks up from his glass and comes face to face with Spike.

"Spike!" Harris whispers.

"Oh, just what I needed to make a bloody bad night really perfect." Spike groans.

Why do I get the feeling I wasn't given the whole back story here?

Harris, who has clearly had a few drinks tonight already, takes another swig from his glass, after which they disdainfully stare at each other again.

"Heard you're worth money these days, fanged wonder." He slurs. "Deadboy wants you dust in the worst way."

Spike smirks, more amused than angered.

"Yeah! And how much money are you worth, Xander? I mean, I seem to remember you hanging around with the famous Scooby Gang. Fighters against evil and defenders of lost puppies everywhere. How much is your death worth to the big noise these days?"

Harris' face warps with anger as Spike leans in closer, grinning.

"Not a cent, Xander! Not one lousy cent. Some things don't change, do they? No one even cares if you're alive or dead. Certainly not Angel-Puss or Fluffy the Vampire Layer."

Harris surges to his feet. "Don't you dare talk about her, fang boy! You don't have the right!"

"And what are you gonna do about it, loser?"

He is about to slug Spike, Evil Eye or not. I guess this is my cue.

Why can't I be somewhere else right now?

"Uh, guys?" I walk toward them, earning me glares from both of them. "You might not want to go to blows over this. Unfortunate things happen to guys who fight in here."

"What's it to you, Irish boy?" Spike morphs into demon face. Does he think he is scaring me with that?

Well, okay, if he thinks that, he would be right.

"Normally I wouldn't mind," I shrug, "it's always fun to see someone go down with a terminal case of syphilis from one moment to the next, but I think the guys higher up would get angry with me for it."

"What are you talking about?"

I sit down on the barstool nearest to them. It takes guts to sit down right next to an angry vampire, give me that much.

"How about I buy you guys a drink? And then we can talk about a few things."

"Such as?" Neither of them seems very taken in by the prospect of a free drink. Don't they know that I don't offer that to many guys? I am nearly broke, after all.

"Such as bringing about the downfall of a few guys you both know. People like Wilkins and Angelus, for example."

For a moment they both stare at me as if I'm nuts. Maybe I am. I certainly would think so if I heard someone talking like I just did. But seeing as this entire thing is pretty much nuts, I might as well get into the mood.

"Could use a drink." Spike slouches down on a stool. "And maybe an amusing story on the side."

Harris says nothing, just drops down and looks at me expectantly, the occasional hostile glare toward Spike a given.

Okay, now I've got their attention. What do I tell them?

"Sometimes life stinks, you know?"

They nod. Both of them know that much, I'd say.

THE END.


	2. Welcome to Los Angelus

**Welcome to Los Angelus (A Darkworld Tale)**

By Philip S.

Summary: Los Angeles has fallen to the creatures of the night and Lord Angelus rules absolute. He has his own way of ensuring the loyalty of his flock.

Spoilers: This is an AU that branches off from canon Buffy in late Season 3. Spoilers up to that point.

Rating: R for language and mild torture

Pairing: B/Aus

Disclaimer: Buffy and associated characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The concept of Darkworld belongs to Yours Truly.

--

Los Angelus, 2005

You want to know what it's like to have a soul?

It's like being in chains. Heavy iron chains slung around everything you are, dragging you down, cutting you off from all the things you really want to do. No, worse than that. You know what you want to do, you remember everything you had so much fun doing, but you can't do it anymore. Because you are chained by a conscience, dragged down by the weight of your soul.

A hundred years like that wasn't easy on me. So when that weight suddenly fell away, when the chains snapped without warning and I was free again, well ... I can admit it. I went insane. Insane with joy, insane with a hundred years of repressed want and need. It turned me into a certified madman and more than prepared to drown the entire world in fire if only it would extinguish every reminder of my time in chains.

Especially her. Especially that beautiful girl that gave me the first moment of true happiness since the chains wrapped tight around me, cutting me off from everything I had ever enjoyed. I wanted to destroy her, destroy the world that had spawned her.

What can I say? It was a phase I went through. And I paid for it.

Everything gets easier the second time around, though. My return to chains wasn't fun, but when they were lifted again I was in the right state of mind to make the most of it. Not a raving madman, not a brooding goody two-shoe, just me.

And these days, it's really good to be me.

--

Sunnydale, 1999

"Just for the record, Dick!" I turn around to look at him. Mayor Richard Wilkins III, who has fooled an entire town into thinking him a benevolent, fatherly guy. His mask is so perfect that he can't seem to shake it anymore, even now. "I want a piece of the cake."

"A piece?" He asks.

Faith has just left, preparing to go hunt down Buffy. She is looking forward to it, ever since she first came here. Wants to hurt the girl who has everything she never had. Poor Faith. Doesn't even suspect she won't get anything she wants tonight.

"I figured it out, Dick." I smile at him. "Just before your little pet here freed me from the soul. That little demon you had Faith gut told Buffy just enough to spark a memory with me. An Ascension. You're planing to become a big bad demon."

I walk toward him, putting my arm around his shoulders. "Somehow I can't imagine that, once that happens, you'll be content with this little town here, Hellmouth or not."

Wilkins smiles as well, but it's a guarded smile. Not quite as confident as you were just a second ago, are you, Dick?

"They all said you were clever, Angel. It seems our timing has been good then, freeing you before you could tell your friends all about it. I assume you had no time to tell them?"

"I got distracted by other things." There is some taste of Slayer left in my mouth. It's something you can never get enough of.

"Good! Now, what do you want, Angel?"

"Well, Dick!" I stroll behind his desk and slouch down in his chair. "I know you've quite a few of the local vampires under your thumb, but even you must realize that most of them are young idiots. Not one elder among them. To rally the powerful to your side you need a Master Vampire."

"Like you, I assume." Wilkins isn't happy that I'm in his chair.

"Like me. Once you ascend I'll help you, Dick. For a price."

The good-natured politician is gone. No need for the charade with me, Dick, glad to see you've finally grasped that.

"It could be useful to have a partner like you at my side, I give you that. What do you want in return for your help?"

I lean back, crossing my arms behind my head. "Just the bare necessities, you know? A home, a family, and, oh, one more thing."

I rise and we look at each other, eye to eye.

"You have your Slayer, Dick, and you can keep her. But Buffy is mine. Mine to do with as I please, mine to spare, mine to destroy. Her friends are mine as well, also her family. You will touch none of them and neither will Faith."

He looks at me a moment longer, then smiles again.

"Far be it from me to keep a man from his happiness. Though I'm afraid Faith will need some more convincing. You know how young people are these days, Angel."

"Oh, I know, Dick. I know."

"Then we have a deal, Angelus?"

He addresses me by my real name. We are no longer playing. Shaking his hand, I nod.

"We have indeed, Mr. Mayor. We have indeed."

--

Los Angelus, 2005

A home and a family, that was what I wanted. Old Dick probably guessed that I didn't mean a nice family home with a white picket fence and 2.4 children. Even then, when he still thought of me as little more than a useful tool to aid in his own plans, he knew me better than that.

I didn't order them to paint over the city signs. No, they did that all by themselves. Went around with buckets of red paint (the more imaginative ones used blood, at least) and crossed out the e, replacing it with u. It's their way of flattering me, I suppose. Turning Los Angeles into Los Angelus.

Kids these days.

Like I told Dick all those years ago, most vampires are mindless idiots. They will follow anyone with half a spine as long as he provides the meals. There are so few of us who actually do last longer than your average human, who don't fall prey to sunlight or an angry crowd before they've even gotten a taste of eternity.

They need a Master to pull through. A Master to tell them what to do. And I told them. While little Dick, all ascended and demony, was all occupied running roughshod over the good old US of A, I told them to get me a home.

Los Angeles did fine. Already taken over by Wilkins' people, one of the first places to fall prey to this new and unexpected war, it took nearly no effort to secure it for my own. And since I was already at it I thought to add San Francisco, San Diego, and a few other cities along the west coast for good measure.

No one thought of funny new names for any of them yet. I'm a little disappointed there.

By the time Dick realized that I'd taken some of his most prized conquests from him, it was too late. You see, funny thing about humans. Individually they are meat. Helpless little fools, amusing at best. But give them an easily recognizable external threat, something like a huge snake demon and his army of demonoids and assorted supernatural rabble, and suddenly you have millions of little fools banding together. That's when they stop being amusing.

Between the US Army on one side and me on the other, old Dick had no chance but to let me be. Oh, he did win his war, or at least most of the battles. There is only very little left of the States these days, saved from conquest by threat of nuclear retaliation. Everything between Los Angeles and the Mississippi Wall belongs to Wilkins.

I think Dick holds a grudge, though. He might even think of attacking me one of these days. He could probably win that battle, too. But it would cost him his empire for certain.

Enough about Dick! I have my home here in LA, a city that really grows on you after a time. Beautiful night life. All the humans you'd ever need. Fun without end.

And my family. What is a man without a family?

Drusilla is by my side once more. My most beautiful creation, the ultimate expression of my artistry. A living sculpture of human suffering who, despite everything I have done to her, can not help but love me. Not to mention the very useful insights provided by her talents.

Penn, my oldest offspring, has returned to the fold as well. I was very disappointed to find out that he spent the last century doing little more than copying one of my older fancies. Carving crosses into people's cheeks. He killed his family over and over again all this time and considered it an expression of art. Needed some severe talking-to, that boy, but I think he's better now.

Nero is my newest creation. In some ways she reminds me of poor little Faith, but she is nowhere near that stupid. She is young, full of pent-up violence, but has the mind to go with it. I saw her slit the throat of a punk two heads taller than she was and her smile was like a razorblade. That was before I made her mine. I killed her and she loves me for it.

My family, standing with me in my home. Of course there are others here, ones that would like to take my home for their own. Master Vampires who could presumably take my throne from me. They swarmed to my side when I created the beauty that is Los Angelus, swearing their loyalty to me in return for a place in my kingdom.

Except for my family there isn't enough loyalty in this entire city to let my guard down even for a second. That's okay, though. There are other ways to ensure obedience. Better ways than empty promises.

--

Sunnydale, 1999

"This is really getting boring." Faith mutters, slouching on the table.

Poor little girl. Pretending to hard to be the bad-ass tough girl, but I can see her insides shaking all the way from over here. Faith turned against Buffy and the others because she envied hersister Slayer's perfect little life. She helps Dick because he buys her ice cream and gave her a playstation, acts like the nice daddy she never had in her sorry excuse for a childhood. She wants me because Buffy had me and now she thinks she is the one to possess me.

I really have to consider the right moment to smash all her illusions into sharp-edged pieces.

"Patience, Faith!" I admonish her like the child she is. "A virtue, even for a demon."

I learned the art of acupuncture a few decades before the soul. It's such a beautiful way of manipulating the human body. All you need are a few steel needles and a little patience.

It achieves excellent results.

Driving the needle into yielding flesh produces a heart-wrenching scream. My sweet Buffy. When she realized just whom she was facing she was scared, but her fear was quickly hidden behind steely determination. After all, she beat me once, didn't she? No reason not to do it again.

She didn't count on Faith betraying her. Stupid girl, how couldn't she see this coming? Even when I was still chained and blind to just about everything except my own misery I saw it. Sweet, innocent Buff, though, she didn't. She didn't even suspect all the anger and hatred churning behind Faith's false bravado and naughty smiles.

Once she found herself chained up and helpless, her determination lasted exactly twelve minutes and thirty-three seconds.

That was when we stopped the witty banter and I entered the first needle. Then the screaming started.

"So you perforate her with a few needles." Faith says, still sulking. "Tough! I thought you'd get into some hardcore stuff here."

Her face tells the exact opposite story her words do. We've been at it for barely half an hour now. Buffy screams again, agony tearing through her beautiful little body as I drive another needle into a nerve cluster on her back, and Faith shivers with revulsion. She would puke her guts out within seconds seeing some of the more boring things Darla and I did in the bad old days.

"Torture is more than drawing blood, Faith!" I admonish her again. "You have to walk the fine razor's edge between pleasure and pain, leaving things on the latter side by a hair's breath."

To emphasize I draw out the needle that made little Buffy scream, instead slipping it into her body at another spot. She convulses again, tearing at the chains that hold her tight, but she doesn't scream her lungs out this time.

She moans. God, what a beautiful sound.

"Right now our little girl here is caught in the most intense pleasure she has ever known." I smile, smelling the juices running down Buffy's thighs. "Consider how long the way down will be once I put a stop to it once more."

"Why don't you just finish her off?" Faith asks, rising. "We could do a lot more fun things once we're rid of her."

I sigh, quickly growing tired of this girl.

"Faith, I think we need to clarify a few things here." I leave the needle in Buffy's flesh, knowing that ceaseless pleasure will quickly turn into pain after but a few minutes. "You really haven't figured it out yet, have you?"

"What are you talking about?" She looks confused as Buffy's moans fill the brief silence between us. Oh, my poor little girl.

"Do you honestly think just ridding me of my soul would make me want you, Faith?" I shake my head. "God, you are pathetic."

I doubt Buffy is hearing our words over the buzz of pleasure roaring through her, but I think she'd like this. Oh, the good girl would never admit it, but she'd like seeing Faith get a little of the old Angelus charm.

"Wait just a minute, bozo ..." She begins.

"You are nothing, Faith!" I grab her by the shoulders, smiling at her. "A scared little girl pretending to be a monster. You're a rank amateur, my dear. Buffy here screams a little and you almost faint. You took a single life and I can see the nightmares churning inside your head. You think that by destroying Buffy's life you can make your own worthwhile, slut?"

Shaking, she tears out of my grip and grabs one of the knives lying on the table.

"You bastard!" She spits, her eyes shimmering. "I should dust you right now!"

"Oh, you want to attack me?" Damn, she is so easy. "Do it then! You might even take me. But what will that change, Faith? Will it make you any less a loser? It won't make me want you, that's for sure."

Faith looks at me with wild eyes, not understanding this strange turn her little fairy tale has taken. I was supposed to be hers now, wasn't I? She was supposed to beat Buffy by taking me away from her. She is almost crying now. Oh, I haven't lost my touch, that's for sure.

Anger gets the better of her and she jumps me, knife raised for a killing thrust. Little girl almost took me down once, but that was when I was still weak from my little vacation in the Inferno. Not to mention the soul. Buffy at her prime was able to defeat me. Faith, though, ...

I swat her away without too much effort. She isn't thinking, blinded with rage, and certainly not at her best. She comes at me again and again, only to be driven back. I don't think I'll even get a decent workout here.

"I'll kill you!" She mutters, getting back to her feet again.

"Get over it, Faith!" I shake my head. "You won't kill me and I don't think your death will give me even the slightest amusement."

I turn away from her, picking up the sob building in her throat.

"I won't kill, Buffy, by the way." I smile at her over my shoulder. "I'd trade a hundred of you for one of her."

"I'm ... I'm gonna kill you for this!" Her voice is tinged with tears.

"Run along, Faith! Run back to daddy Dick! Maybe he'll give you a lollipop to suck on."

For a moment I think she might actually attack me again, but then she turns and runs out the door. I hear her smash a bit of the furniture on her way out. Temper, temper. She really needs to grow up one of these days.

Speaking of growing up ...

Buffy screams as I wrench out the needle, dropping her from painful heights of pleasure into an abyss of pleasureless pain.

So many hours of darkness left for us, my love.

--

Los Angelus, 2005

So many Master Vampires. I'm young for a Master, I know that. There are those here who are more powerful than me, or so they might think. Some who could maybe persuade this city's population of vampires to rise against me, take my little home for themselves.

None of them will, though. Because only I can give them what they want.

I snap my fingers and my guests look up from their conspirative chats to look at me. They all know what comes now. The reason they serve me, the reason they have no choice but to serve me here in my home.

Cruentos Dei. The Blood of God.

They all drink eagerly from the meager cups my servants bring them, their eyes shining with a craving about to be fulfilled. Drusilla watches them like a cat would the canary, smiling. Even my family does not know the secret of this beautiful tool of power, though I think Dru suspects. She has the Sight, she might have figured it out. Of all my children, though, she is the one I know will never betray me.

The blood thunders down their throats, a thousand times richer and more potent than any human blood could ever be. It fills them with power, gives them the strength of a dozen vampires, sends them rushing onto a high few of our kind have ever experienced. None of them knows where it comes from, what magnificent creature could possibly bleed like this, and though many of them spend all their waking hours trying to find out, right now they don't care. Not while it has them in their grip.

Loyalty is fleeting. But addiction is predictable. The addict will do anything for his next fix.

Anything.

Leaving my guests to their high I retreat to my private chambers, knowing that my children will take care of things in my absence. Drusilla and Penn complement each other well. Penn, unimaginative but smart. Drusilla, mad but inspired. Nero will learn a lot from them. Plus she can provide whatever violence might be needed and she will like it. Only three years dead, yet many a vampire a hundred times her age has learned to fear her knife-edged smile.

Me, I am taking some time off to enjoy myself. After a hard day's work, a man has to find some pleasure in the confines of his home, does he not?

"Rise and shine, lover!" I offer her my hand, which she takes with a grace she didn't possess just a few years ago. She rises from the bed in a motion of pure flowing energy, spilling toward me like water, molding herself against me as she was born to. It took me a few years to mold her into the perfect creature she is now, but it was worth every second of it.

And fun, too.

"What have you got planned for tonight?" She asks, whispering into my ear as if her question is a dirty secret. Knowing her thoughts I guess it is one. Her hands are never still, roaming over my flesh for the thousandth time, already knowing every curve and hollow, yet always eager to explore again.

I can emphasize, darling.

"Just a bit of pleasure, Buff." I lean down to lick a wet line along her neck. "Just a bit of pleasure."

As I sink my fangs into her skin to take my own bit of God's Blood directly from the source, I can hear her purr.

These days, it's really good to be me.

THE END


	3. Faith plus Willow times 2 equals ?

**Faith plus Willow times 2 equals ? (A Darkworld Tale)**

By Philip S.

Summary: Richard Wilkins rules half of America and his adopted daughter Faith has everything she ever dreamed of. That doesn't mean, though, that she is satisfied. Old grudges and the return of an old friend spark an interesting road trip.

Spoilers: This is an AU that branches off from canon Buffy in late Season 3. Spoilers up to that point.

Rating: R for language and sexual situations

Pairing: F/W/W

Disclaimer: Buffy and associated characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The concept of Darkworld belongs to Yours Truly.

--

Ten miles outside Los Angeles, 2005 AD

I'm sitting in a bar in a place that might have deserved the name 'town' if all but a handful of the buildings weren't conspicuous by their absence. If this shithole is on any map I'll buy drinks for everyone. Hell, considering what kind of place this is, I might as well say I'd be drinks for everyone.

Me being Faith. Faith Wilkins. The Slayer. Or maybe former Slayer. Do I still count as the Slayer, seeing as I haven't really dusted all that many vampires these past six years? Okay, there was that one in Ohio about a month ago, but he really got on my nerves with his constant chatter about how he would rip out my guts and wear them as a necklace. A girl has to have standards, you know?

I should probably mention that I'm quite drunk. Not the funny kind of drunk, either. It's the I'm-fucking-frustrated-because-I'm-fucking-bored kind of drunk. When Richard sent me here I was hoping for something of a challenge. Maybe something that would actually cause me to work up a sweat.

Fat chance.

David Fish. Formerly a big-brain science geek. Formerly a co-worker of the prime bitch herself, Maggy Walsh. Formerly on the run with the specs for the latest generation of demonoid soldiers, Adam Mk 4, tucked away in his rucksack, hoping to sell it to the idiots back east. Formerly a living idiot. Now just dead. But still an idiot, if you ask me.

A human. Nothing but a fucking human. You know how easy it is to kill a human? It's so incredibly easy that I'm actually considering to drop the habit here. I mean, I've lost count of the number of people I've offed over the last few years. Some for Richard, some because they annoyed me, some just because I was bored.

Now the killing is what bores me.

You'd think I'd be the happiest gal alive, wouldn't you? I mean, I'm the daughter (or next best thing) of the most powerful man (or former man, now major demon) in the whole fucking world. I'm a Slayer, meaning that no one messes with me and survives to tell the tale. I can kick anyone's ass and look sexy as hell doing it. This is the perfect life!

Only it's not, because I'm so incredibly bored.

Take this place here! Why would someone like me hang out in a third class demon biker bar in the middle of nowhere? No, worse than that, in the middle of nowhere just a few miles away from enemy territory. Ten miles or so outside Los Angeles. Or Los Angelus, I think it's called now. Deadboy's got an ego the size of a skyscraper.

Why am I hanging out with demons and vampires in a bar within earshot of the biggest motherfucker in the whole wide world? Simple. I'm bored. I said that already, didn't I? So what? You gonna mess with me because of it? Please do!

Fat chance of that. Not a lot of people, or non-people, around these days who don't know who I am. No one's gonna mess with me because they know that, on the off-chance they'd manage to survive it, they'd get eaten by the ruler of his fucking country for messing with his girl. Some of these days I worry that they might actually fear Richard more than they do me. Then again, who cares? Important thing is that they fear me. It feels good to be feared.

Killing used to feel good, too.

There is the sound of breaking tables behind me. Maybe some idiots are gonna start a brawl or something. Would welcome it. A chance to work off some of the steam that Mr. Loser David Fish didn't even manage to arouse.

"Wow, look at those chicks!" The barkeeper says. He's a seven feet tall demon and serves me drinks for free. I've been here before, you notice? Anyway, taking another sip from my drink and turn around to find out 'those chicks'.

I nearly choke on my drink.

"This place looks boring." One of the two newcomers says. "I want to play."

"We'll play." The other one snuggles up to her, smiling. "I'm sure we'll find something to play with."

I look at my drink. How much alcohol is in that stuff anyway? I'm sure I didn't have enough to make me see double. Or to make me see two girls that look very much like a certain redhead I once knew, only dressed like the dominatrix bitches from planet slut. They really look an awful lot like her, both of them.

Yep! Definitely too much to drink.

"I have something you can play with." A big demon biker approaches the two sluts, grinning broadly. "Wanna see?"

One of the two girls looks at him like he is a mildly interesting thing she found beneath her boot. "Boring!" She declares, then vamps out and drives her stiff fingers right into his throat. His body crumbles to the ground as she licks the blood off her hand.

I need to sober up. This is getting too weird even for me.

"Look!" One of them points at me, causing just about the entire bar to fall silent. The last guy who pointed at me in here lost his arm. For starts. "It's Faith!"

"The second Slayer?" The other asks.

Okay, that's quite enough. Drunk or not, no one calls me that! No one! I walk toward them, the silence in the place thick enough to cut it with a knife. The two vampires just look at me with interest on their faces.

"It's really her!" The one on the left claps her hands with glee. "I never thought I'd see you again, Faithy!"

I stop right in front of them, pissed beyond belief. The one on the left really looks a lot like Willow. Come to think of it, so does the one on the right.

"Want to tell me who you are before you combust?"

"She talks tough." The right Willow says, looking me up and down. "Is she fun in bed?"

"I don't know." Left Willow says. "I never got the chance to find out."

I think I had way too much to drink because the two of them staring at me like I'm a dish really makes me hot.

--

"So let me see if I got this straight?" Leaning back on the bed, a cold body lying to either side of me, I feel quite relaxed. "One of you is the Willow I knew. Nerdy high school girl whose guts I really hated. The other one is also Willow, but from another dimension where you got turned into a vampire. Then vamp Willow was brought into our dimension by a former vengeance demon looking to regain her power and then turned human Willow into a vamp, too, so now there's two vamp Willows. Am I right so far?"

Left Willow snuggles into my side, her tongue licking across the shallow bite mark she has left high up my thigh. It's not the first time I let myself be sucked by a vamp. It's quite a kick actually.

"In a nutshell." She says, her hand stroking around my privates.

I know that Willow vanished shortly before all that shit with Angelus came down. I remember B being all frantic and stuff, both of us patrolling all night hoping to find a trace of her. I didn't give much of a damn even then, but hey, I had to keep up appearances. Once everything went to hell for the little Scooby Gang I doubt anyone gave Willow a second thought anymore.

I'm sure no one would have expected something like this.

Right Willow is snuggled into my other side, also licking a bite mark. I never got bit and fucked by two vamps at the same time before. Especially ones that had exactly identical faces.

It was fucking awesome.

"So which of you is my Willow then?" I ask, fingers playing with the nipples of the right one. God, four times and I'm ready to go again. Slayer stamina is really something worth bragging about. Come to think of it, so is vampire stamina.

"Both of us?" One jokes, giggling.

"I mean, which of you is the one from this dimension?"

Both lean in to kiss me on the cheeks, grazing me with vampire fangs. A shiver goes down my spine. God, I really needed to get laid again. It's been, what, two full weeks?

"No telling!" Right Willow whispers, causing left Willow to giggle again.

All in all, the night turned out to be pretty good. At least until one of the Willows (I lost track which of them is left and which is right) asks me about B.

"Buffy?" I ask, hoping I didn't just hear that.

"Yes, what happened to sweet little Buffy?" One Willow asks. Hell, I'm gonna call her Willow number one, if only because she made me come first. I think. "We so wanted to play with her, but then she was gone and the big demon ate the town."

I laugh. Yes, that was fun. Watching Richard ascend and swallow half the people of good old Sunnyhell was really great. The laughing doesn't last, though. She asked about B.

"She's in LA with her undead boyfriend." I grumble. "Got herself a job as old Angelus' sextoy, or so it goes. Haven't really seen much of her since the Ascension."

"We know Angel went bad again."

"Yes. Puppy got his teeth back." Puppy? I've heard him called many things, but never that. Makes me wonder if Willow was really so nerdy back when she was human. Or maybe that was the one from the alternate dimension. Who knows what went on there.

"Yeah, the bastard's back." I tell them. "Hell, I should know. I caused him to loose his soul. But did he thank me? Did he show even a tiny bit of gratitude?"

They both look at me. "No?"

"Hell no! Soul or not, all he cared about was fucking little Buffy. Probably has her chained spread-eagled to a bed all day and comes inside her every two hours or so. I bet she loves that."

The two Willows look like something wicked is going through their red heads.

"I would like to see Puppy again." I think number two said that.

"And play a little with Buffy." Number one says, her hand trailing down my belly and lower.

Two cold hands begin to play with me at the same time, a moan escaping my lips. Fuck, I never thought Willow had it in her. Goes to show you how a little demon and the absence of a soul can change you. Maybe I should try it one of these days.

"Want to go on a little road trip?" Number two asks me.

"A little fun and games in Angelus' back yard?"

My first impulse is to say no. It's enemy territory and Richard doesn't want me to go there. Sure, he's mad at Angelus for stabbing him in the back. We conquered half of America together, but then the bastard turned on us and took Los Angeles as his own, along with a few other cities along the west coast. I know Richard would like nothing better than to smoke out that motherfucker, but with things the way they are back east he simply can't afford to right now. Which means I've gotta cool my heels.

Means I can't get even with the bastard who humiliated me six years ago. Who dropped me like a piece of trash, all for his precious Buffy. Who played me for a fucking fool when I thought I'd finally got something away from B.

Chained to the wall, suffering torture at Angelus' hands, and still she won. Still that little bitch managed to beat me. Because he still wanted her and didn't give a shit about me.

"A roadtrip?" I manage as cold fingers bring me back to the brink. "Sounds like fun."

THE END


	4. A Night at the Games: Angelus

**A Night at the Games: Angelus (A Darkworld Tale)**

by Philip S.

Summary: When Angelus is challenged for his throne, all of Los Angelus appears to watch the show. Even those not welcome in his kingdom.

Spoilers: This is an AU that branches off from canon Buffy in late Season 3. Spoilers up to that point.

Rating: R for language and violence

Pairing: B/Aus

Disclaimer: Buffy and associated characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The concept of Darkworld belongs to Yours Truly.

-----------

_Los Angeles, 2005_

I really have a dislike for people who always give you citations of what famous people said in order to appear smart or well read. Me, I've been on first name basis with quite a few famous writers and artists, politicians and generals, in my time, most of them weren't all that smart or well read themselves, just charismatic. Still, some of them said a few words of wisdom.

Like the line about bread and circuses. People, or non-people, really don't need much more to be content. At least the stupid ones.

The bread, in our case, is the human population. Or life stock, as my little girl Nero calls them. Plenty of them here in my beautiful city, enough for everyone. All those not smart or not quick enough to get out in time. Their prison is the city, no further walls or locked doors needed. During the day they might even manage to make themselves believe that they still have some measure of control over their lives. Once the sun goes down, though, ...

They are still people out there who think that the confines of their own home are safe. Sure, we can't enter without invitation. You'd be surprised, though, how quickly the people come running out of their safe, cozy home once you set fire to it. There are always fires burning in LA at night. It's really a pretty picture.

As I said, that's the bread. The people. Now, about the circuses ...

It was Drusilla's idea, more or less. Fun and games for all the good, undead citizens of daddy's little kingdom. She had a lot of fun about 150 years ago when we were in Spain. She loved the arenas, loved seeing man pitted against beast.

She was just disappointed that man always seemed to win.

"Can we have the people lose?" She asked me in her innocent little girl voice. I love that voice, really. It sends shivers down my spine. How could I ever say no to her?

Hence, the games. In the past I abhorred this kind of entertainment. I always preferred the pleasure of doing my own kills, making them as difficult and artistic as possible, to watching two sweaty bodies club each other to death in the arena sands. These days, though, I have to admit that it has a charm all its own.

What can I say? I've changed.

We converted a baseball stadium into our little arena. Ripped out the grass and replaced it with sand. I never liked baseball, but I love the smell of sand soaked with blood. Human or demon blood, doesn't really make that much a difference. Another famous citation. The smell of Napalm in the morning. Well, for me it's blood.

Tonight we have a packed house. Vampires, demons, even a few humans daring enough to come out into the open. Their guts might even cut them enough slack to get out of here alive, who knows?

Drusilla throws a white handkerchief onto the sand and the games begin, causing her to clap her hands with glee.

Anyone can enter. Human, demon, vampire, whatever. We don't discriminate. Of course the human contestants are mostly forced to be here. Most humans are not dumb enough to step into an arena to face off with a demon. Some are, I've seen them, but the general IQ is just high enough to avoid it. So, seeing as most demons just love to see humans killed, we need some supply here.

A few rounds of mindless mayhem, nothing very entertaining. A vampire makes quick work of a Grimlack demon. A Priomortu pulverizes three humans unlucky enough to be pitted against it, nothing fun. I still smile, though. I just happen to know we're going to have more entertainment here tonight.

Should begin momentarily.

"ANGELUS!" A voice thunders across the arena, where a fight has just ended.

I look up at someone standing on the other side of the arena, near the entrance. This is all about appearances, of course. Why else do you think I'm lounging on a throne in the VIP booth of the former baseball diamond? Why else did we replace all the electric lights with torches? Appearances, is all.

What fun would the game be without the proper atmosphere?

The vampire striding into the arena with a small entourage by his side certainly has the appearance of the confident challenger down pat. I've never met him before tonight, but I know of him. I know his name, I know why he is here.

"Welcome to my city, Azrael." I do not rise from my throne. Can't have gestures of respect here, after all. "So nice of you to drop in uninvited."

Azrael was a Roman general in life, or so I'm told. He's old, very old, and powerful. His real name is long lost, so he named himself after a devil. Supposed to be intimidating, I guess. He is a big one, too, probably a few inches taller than I am. Broad-shouldered and wearing a goatee like the Hollywood villains did before we ate all the producers.

I like his style.

"I am here to challenge you, Angelus." He thunders, making sure that everyone in the stadium hears him. "I challenge you for the rule of this town."

"Do you now?" I ask him, smiling.

Azrael is about a thousand years older than I am. I doubt he can still slip back into his human visage. I don't doubt that he thinks he can pulverize me with a gesture.

"Do you accept the challenge or will you show everyone what a coward you are, Angelus?"

Many people, and non-people, have called me a coward during my long life. What can I say? I like to stack the odds in my own favor. I don't like to enter battles unless I know, or am at least very certain, that I will win. Cowardice? Or just common sense? I guess it depends on who is doing the badmouthing.

"Your challenge will be met, Azrael." I tell him, still smiling. I can see him studying me, looking for the fear he knows I must be feeling. After all, will I not be facing a vampire much older and more powerful than me? One not addicted to my sweet little drug like the ones I have already gathered around me?

Gee, I think I should be terrified.

"As challenged," I tell him, "I reserve the right to call a champion, of course."

Azrael doesn't seem surprised. I guess he never expected to face me man to man, at least not right off the bat.

"Very well. I have my own champion." He says, waving for one of the vampires in his entourage to come forward. Even bigger than he is, built like a tank, a face that reminds me more of a rabid bull than a human being.

"Who will fight for you, Angelus?" Azrael asks, his smile superior, almost mocking.

My family stands by my side, as always. Drusilla watches the happenings with the smile of a delighted child. Penn glares at Azrael, clenching and unclenching his hands. His eyes stray to a beautiful female vampire that is part of my challenger's entourage. Maybe I will give her to him when all this is finished. I know of the things Penn likes to do to beautiful women, alive or undead.

Nero looks at me, awaiting my command to spring into battle. I have been challenged before, though not by anyone in Azrael's league, and most of the times I let Nero do the fighting for me. She likes it, she is good at it, and she puts the fear of God, or the next-best thing, in those who would challenge me.

Not tonight, though.

"Come forth, my dear." I gesture behind me. "Time to play."

A murmur goes through the crowd as she steps from the shadows behind my throne, where she has been all this time. Dressed all in leather, the way I love it, and with a smile on her lips that could melt steel. The stench of fear permeates the arena, those that recognize her giving it off in waves.

"My champion, Azrael." I do the introductions. "The Vampire Slayer."

Now those that haven't recognized her are catching up. Ah, the sweet stench of fear. It's intoxicating. I look at Nero by my side, she looks a little disappointed. Giving her an encouraging smile, I tell her to watch and learn.

"I heard that you had a housebroken Slayer for your earthly pleasures, Angelus." He mocks, still confident. "Tell me, is she good in bed?"

"You will never find out!" Buffy tells him, smiling wickedly.

"What say we let the battle begin, Azrael?"

Buffy leaps from the booth and lands on the arena sands like a cat, a long knife appearing in her right hand as if by magic. Everyone in the crowds is leaning forward, craning their necks in order not to miss any of the action. While it is common knowledge that I have a Slayer in my family, she is not often out in public.

Wouldn't do, considering how precious she is to me.

"Come and get it!" Buffy teases the big vampire Azrael has fighting for him.

He does as told and charges her, head of steam and all. He looks like he could break right through the concrete walls of the arena without even slowing down. At least three feet taller than Buffy, he reaches out for her with giant hands, looking to crush her into paste.

I could have told him that this is the wrong strategy.

Buffy never blinks as she leaps over him, twisting in mid-air and slashing at his back with the knife. She lands on her feet even as her opponent roars in pain, a deep gash in his back showering the arena sands with blood. He turns, his eyes full of rage, and sees Buffy licking his blood off the blade.

"Bland!" She pouts. "I've tasted better."

Eyes blazing with rage he charges again, but he never even gets close. Buffy dances around him like a dervish, moving with the grace of a panther and striking with the speed and ferocity of a cobra. Two minutes into the fight Azrael's champion is bleeding from a dozen and more wounds. He hasn't even managed to touch her.

Azrael's eyes narrow as he realizes what I've known all along. This isn't a fight. It's a spectacle. An execution.

Two more minutes and Buffy gets tired of toying with her opponent. Ducking under a wild punch she steps into his reach, drawing a stake from her jacket without breaking the motion, and rams it into his heart.

Emerging from the settling ashes, Buffy basks in the applause of the crowd.

Rising from my throne, I look at Azrael. "Was that your best?" Some laughter rings out among the onlookers.

"I am impressed." The elder vampire nods his head. "You have managed to draw quite a skilled warrior into your camp, Angelus. But tell me. Does she do all your fighting for you these days?"

I smile. He has lost the challenge and he knows it. Yet one doesn't live over a thousand years by giving up so easily. I could send him away now and he would have to leave, rules older than the both of us are broken at one's own peril. His only other option is for me to accept a second challenge. Maybe one that questions my personal courage or manliness?

"Face me demon to demon, Angelus!" Azrael walks closer, sifting through the ashes of his easily vanquished champion. "Or are you too much of a coward for that?"

There is one thing one has to remember when ruling through fear, like I do. It's well and good if the rabble fears your soldiers and warriors. It's great if they tremble when Nero flashes one of her knife-edge smiles, when Drusilla begins to sing lullabies, or when Buffy so much as steps out of the shadows.

I am the ruler here, though. And they have to fear me the most.

I rise from my throne and leap down into the sands of the arena, tearing off my shirt in the process. Gives the whole thing a more gladiatorial feel, I might say, fighting with a bare chest. Also I know that my lover is enjoying an eye-full.

"Very well, Azrael." I smile at him, seeing just the slightest waver in confidence. Didn't expect the 'coward' to accept your challenge this quickly, did you? "Shall we dance?"

"Well met, Angelus." He grins, tearing off his own shirt. I don't know if he is old enough to have witnessed the actual gladiatorial games in ancient Rome, but he certainly knows what the crowd wants to see. "Let's!"

We circle each other for a minute, neither of us foolish enough to just rush into battle like his idiot champion did. Buffy is leaning against the arena wall but a few meters away, playing with the knife in her hand, while Azrael's entourage watches as well. Thousands of eyes are resting on us, the excitement around us thick enough to cut it with a knife.

Then Azrael attacks.

No one among the crowd even sees him move, he is too fast for them. Only a handful of them, the old and powerful, will see more than a blur as he throws a blow that could cave in brick or take the head right off a fellow vampire.

I duck him with ease.

"How ...?" Azrael stumbles, off-balance by my unexpected evasion, surprise playing across his demon features. I know what he is thinking. How can someone as young as me, not even three centuries dead, move fast enough to evade an elder? This battle should have ended within a few punches, his victory assured.

I don't actually feel sorry for shattering his illusions.

"Will you make me work up a sweat?" I ask him innocently. "Or should I kill you quickly?"

Again he attacks and again it is the easiest thing in the world for me to move out of his way. There is fury blazing in his eyes, not enough to lose his cool completely, but he's mad. Oh yes, he is mad at this upstart vampire that dares defy him. Come now, Azrael, show me the error of my ways!

After three more attacks the game is wearing thin. So when Azrael strikes once more I catch his fist in mine, at the same time delivering a kick to his midsection that brakes at least half a dozen ribs. He drops to his knees, groaning with pain, his fist still captured.

When he looks up I drive my boot right into his face, smashing his jaw to pieces. He drops back into the sand, blood flowing from his shattered face.

"Too easy." I shake my head, stepping over him.

"How ...?" He mumbles, barely able to form the words.

"That would be telling."

The crowd is chanting my name now, calling for the kill. They smell blood, they want more blood. Oh, how easy they are.

"Vox populi, Azrael, do you remember it?" I lean down, grabbing his head by the hair. "They want to see a death. We wouldn't want to disappoint them, do we?"

With that I tear off his head and watch him crumble into dust. The crowd goes wild, jumping to their feet and cheering my name. I turn to face them, Azrael's blood on my chest, and I now that, at least for today, they are mine. All of them.

"ANGELUS! ANGELUS! ANGELUS!"

I raise my arms, basking in the cheers. This is what I like about the games. This is what I love about this city of mine. Everyone loves a winner. Of course some might consider it unfair. Azrael didn't know it, of course, but he never had a chance.

I look over at my beautiful Slayer, who smiles back at me with a sparkle in her eyes. Many a vampire has killed a Slayer, yes, but no one ever managed to break one to their will before. No one ever relished in their sweet essence like I do.

I thread in the ashes of Azrael and smile. You should have known, old boy. I might just be three centuries old in this world, but I've endured thousands of years in Hell. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And even the strength of thousands of years of life is nothing compared to a mere five years of drinking Slayer's blood. Not just the meager, thinned variant I give to my lieutenants. The real thing. Sweeter and more potent than anything else.

"ANGELUS! ANGELUS! ANGELUS!"

Did I mention it's really good to be me?

THE END


	5. A Night at the Games: Xander

A Night at the Games: Xander (A Darkworld Tale)

by Philip S.

Summary: When Angelus is challenged for his throne, all of Los Angelus appears to watch the show. Even those not welcome in his kingdom.

Spoilers: This is an AU that branches off from canon Buffy in late Season 3. Spoilers up to that point.

Rating: R for language and violence

Disclaimer: Buffy and associated characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The concept of Darkworld belongs to Yours Truly.

#

Los Angelus, 2005

Sometimes life stinks. That's what Doyle told us when we first met. Us being the three musketeers or whatever. Man, if someone had told me six years ago that I'd be teaming up with Spike and a guy with a face like a pin cushion in order to take down Angel and the former Mayor of Sunnydale ... well, I would have believed the Angel part. Maybe even the pin cushion part. Would have gotten skeptical with the Mayor. But Spike?

Sometimes life stinks, Doyle said. It certainly does, pal. It certainly does.

I really don't know why I ran to Los Angeles of all places. I mean, after the Mayor and his flunkies burst out of Sunnydale and started spreading mayhem all over the continent, everyone with half a brain fled eastward, where the remains of the United States are holding on strong, or so the rumor goes.

But hey, if I had even half a brain I would never have gotten involved in that whole Slayer-Vampire-Giant-Snake-Demon thing to begin with. I would have stayed happily ignorant, told myself that vampires are just fairy tales, and probably gone on to be a happy midnight snack for one of those fairy tales. I did live in Sunnydale after all.

Putting it like this, I guess it does pay not to have half a brain.

The world has certainly done a 180 on me. Here I am, teaming with a vampire and a half-demon, and looking for a good plan to take on one of my best friends, Buffy, and her once again demony lover. I certainly don't need an excuse to take on Angel, only a really big stake and some holy water. But Buffy ... god, I don't even want to imagine what that bastard did to her these last few years.

I still remember the Ascension. The day it all went to hell. Things were looking very bleak already, seeing as we had lost pretty much all our big guns by that time. Through some tricky business of his Giles had found out that Faith had gone over to the Mayor's side. Buffy and Angel had disappeared without a trace and, seeing as Angel had struck me unconscious the last time I'd seen him, that didn't bode well for Buffy at all. A few days before that Willow had vanished, though we did hear some strange rumors about her running around the Bronze and beating up people.

It was just Giles, Wesley, Oz, Cordy, and me, plus a few operatives the Watchers Council had sent to help us, seeing as both the Slayers were, at best, out of commission. Just a few normal humans, no special powers, when Wilkins turned himself into a snake bigger than the school.

Is it any wonder we lost?

I saw most of the people I knew die that day. Most of the students were eaten, as were their parents. Giles and Wesley died fighting the vampires Wilkins had helping him, a lot more of them than we ever anticipated. To this day I don't know what happened to Oz, so I keep hoping that he got out as well. Cordy didn't. I saw her get bit and could do nothing but watch.

Then the really horrible part began.

#

Sunnydale, 1999

Graduation Day

"Isn't that a pretty picture!"

All around me people are dying, a giant snake is eating students by the droves, vampires are going around snapping necks. The few people that are still fighting are vastly outnumbered and will be dead before long.

I didn't have any time to be scared. Until now.

Until Angel showed up and smiled at me.

"You!"

"Me!" He nods. "You always were a master of the obvious, Xander. Just about your only positive quality, but hey, for some it might just be enough."

He jumps from the park bench where he perched like a big carrion bird and stalks towards me. I know I can't run, he's faster than me. Besides, where is there to run to? The whole town is going to hell in a handcart and I have a feeling that deadboy here is more than a little involved in it.

We stand face to face and somehow I manage to keep myself from shaking.

"What's the matter, Xander?" He asks me, pure innocence on his face. "Not happy to see your old friend 'deadboy'?"

"What have you done to Buffy?" I manage to get out between clenched teeth.

"Hmm." He gets a very thoughtful expression. "You mean before or after I raped her? Well, there was some torture. A lot of it, actually. Some fun with Faith on the side, but that doesn't really ..."

Before I realize what I'm doing I slug him full in the face with everything I have. He actually takes a step back, but that is the only visible effect. Plus my knuckles feel like they've been broken.

"Feeling better now?" He asks me, smiling as he licks a thin trickle of blood from his split lip. "I really hope so. Because it might just be the last time you feel anything positive."

I'm panting, from fear or anger, I'm not sure. From the looks of things I guess I will die here today. Maybe I should've gotten out while I could. But that would have meant leaving Willow and Buffy behind. Hell, I don't even know whether they're alive.

"Where is Buffy?" I growl at Angelus.

"Still the White Knight, Xander?" He asks mockingly. "I'm afraid this time there are no hospital guards or policemen to back you up, little boy. I must admit, our little confrontation in the hospital, you actually showed a lot of guts. But I don't think those will save you this time around."

Faster than I can react he has me by the throat, fingers like a steel vise closing around my neck. This is it then. I always knew I wouldn't get out of this school alive. Though I kinda hoped it wouldn't be Angel that killed me. Anyone but him.

I can feel his teeth grazing my neck, sinking into my flesh. God, it hurts. I can hear myself screaming as the bastard munches on my blood and there is nothing I can do about it.

You better not make me one of you, buster, or I swear I will stake you. Soul or no soul.

"Nah, don't like the taste!" I hear him say. Next thing I know I'm on the ground, looking up at him as he spits out my blood. Blood! My god, he bit me. I can feel the blood trickle down my neck.

"I really wanted to kill you." Angel says, shaking his head. "But you know, now that the moment has arrived, I really don't see a point in doing it. I mean, sure, it would give me about two seconds of joy, but then ...?"

He kneels down to look at me, smiling.

"Run along, Xander! Let's see if you can make it out of this town alive. I'll be seeing you then. One of these days."

With that he walks away and just leaves me behind as Sunnydale dies all around me.

#

Los Angelus, 2005

He didn't even kill me. Bastard didn't think me important enough to kill me. I ran from Sunnydale that day, somehow making it. For months I was on the run, fearing that Angel would track me down the moment I stopped running.

It took me about a year to realize that he probably never spent another thought on me after I was gone. As much as I hate Spike, he was right about what he said. There is a price on his head that could buy you a small country. Me, I'm not worth a dime to Angel or any of those in power. No one sees me as a threat. I doubt Wilkins ever so much as knew my name. I was just that dumb kid hanging out with the Slayer.

Guess that leaves me with two options. Drown in my own misery. Or show them how wrong they are.

"Get a move on, brat!" Spike calls out from where he and Doyle have found a way to get past the arena guards.

"Coming, fang boy!"

"You know, if the two of you could stop with the verbal sparring for a day or so, I would really be happy."

The only thing Spike and me have in common, except for hating Angel's guts, is our confusion about Doyle. I can't figure this guy out. Looking at him, I would never take him for anything but a no-good, drunken idiot. Kinda like an image of what I could be in another ten years or so, if I survive that long. When he first told us about this whole sacred mission thing Spike and I both laughed in his face.

We've learned better since he took us to see the Oracles.

Even Spike seems impressed. Not by Doyle, but by what the two toga-wearers told us. Sacred mission and all, oh yes. Bring down Angelus and Wilkins. Us. The three of us. A vampire, a half-demon, and a mere human. Bring down the two most powerful demons in the world.

Who could resist such a mission?

I guess the only reason Spike is here because he wants to stick it to deadboy. Plus the only way he can ever show his face on the street again without someone looking to collect the reward is for Angel to die. Like that old saying about the enemy of my enemy being my friend, I guess.

"Someone will challenge Angelus tonight." Doyle says. "It will give us a chance to check out his fighting prowess."

"I know how the poof fights." Spike snorts. "Gimme five minutes with him and he's dust."

"You knew him six years ago, Spike." Doyle reminds him. "He has changed."

Doyle gets a lot of info from his visions, which don't look all that painless to me. It's how he knows that someone will challenge Angel for the ultimate fighting championship tonight. It's also how he knows that Buffy is here tonight.

Buffy. I haven't seen her for six years. Only heard that she was hanging out with Angel again. His slave, his pet, his enforcer, whatever. I can't believe that the Buffy I knew would ever give in to that bastard. It's not possible. Maybe it's some kind of trick. Or maybe ... maybe he turned her.

God, please no!

"Looks like the show has already started." Spike mutters. I can hear cheers rising in the arena.

We managed to find a gap in the fence surrounding the former baseball stadium and sneaked in underneath the seating rows. Crawling through mud and leftovers from the last twenty world series beats being eaten by a few thousand demons every day of the week.

Then we reach the edge of the arena and see the spectacle in full Technicolor.

"Buffy!" Someone whispers. Might have been me.

She stands in the arena sand, a long knife in one hand, dressed all in black leather. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail like I've seen her do so often, but her face looks nothing like I remember it.

She smiles. Not the smile I know. She smiles like someone who is about to kill something and will thoroughly enjoy it.

"So that's the Slayer." Doyle is slouched down between Spike and me.

"That's our little Buffy." Spike nods. "All grown up and mean, I'd say."

My intended insult dies in my throat when I see Buffy attack her opponent, a vampire big as a house. The poor bloodsucker never has a chance. She doesn't just kill him, she takes him apart bit by bit. She plays with him and her smile never breaks.

Oh my god, what did he do to her?

The battle only lasts a minute or so, but to me it seems like an eternity until she finally dusts the vampire, raising her arms to bask in the cheers of the crowd.

"A crowd of vampires cheering the bloody Slayer." Spike snorts. "That's something you don't see every day."

I'm too shocked to say anything and it seems the show isn't over yet. Some other vampire, looking really old and gruesome, challenges deadboy. Angel jumps down from somewhere above us, didn't see him until now. He hasn't changed, of course, looks exactly like I remember him. Tearing off his shirt, he faces the other vampire.

"Bloody show-off!" Spike does the running commentary thing again. "Tearing off his shirt like he thinks he is some kind of ..."

Spike falls silent when the battle begins.

And ends.

Angel tears the other guys head off like it's nothing and doesn't even look winded. The crowd is cheering his name and he drinks it up. His face morphs back into his human features and he smiles.

"How did he do that?" Spike whispers. "Bloody poof isn't that fast or strong. He can't be."

Okay, now Spike is spooked. Why doesn't that calm me down in the least?

Doyle's face betrays nothing, but he starts inching back.

"Let's get out of here, lads! I guess we saw everything we came here for. Unless you still want those five minutes with him, Spike, I guess you'd have a chance now."

"I ... I think I'll pass. For now."

We make our way out of the stadium and back towards the city. No one is much in a talking mood after what we just saw.

Buffy. I can't believe that was Buffy.

"I could use a drink." Spike says as we pass by the Evil Eye.

"Couldn't hurt." Not as much as seeing Buffy anyway.

God, what are we going to do?

THE END


	6. A Night at the Games: Faith

**A Night at the Games: Faith (A Darkworld Tale)**

Rating: R for language and violence

Pairing: F/W/W

#

_Los Angelus, 2005_

"You think we'll see Puppy fight?" Willow Two asks me, looking very excited.

I still don't know how she came up with that nickname for Angelus and I'm not really sure I want to know. By now I'm pretty sure that she is the one that came from the alternate universe. The one that came here and turned her local self into a vampire like herself. They still like to play coy with me whenever I lose track of who is who.

Which isn't hard to do, seeing as they look completely identical. Right down to their wardrobe.

If someone had told me six years ago that I'd be teaming up with two vamped Willows, both of them dressed in black leather and incredibly good at sex, I would have asked him to give me a taste of the shit he'd been smoking. The only Willow I knew was the nerdy babbler that hung on B's heels and messed up magic spells on a regular basis.

"The guy in the bar said that Angelus would be at the games tonight," I tell her. "You'll get to see your puppy."

The guy also said that the Slayer was rumored to be there. Sweet little B, who has been busy these last six years being Angelus' sex toy, or so the rumor goes. Haven't seen her since the Ascension. Since Angelus told me to fuck off because he'd rather fuck her than me. The day the Boss told me that we couldn't make him pay for that quite yet because he needed his help to conquer America.

Yeah, that was a really great day for me, you notice?

Sneaking into Los Angeles (I won't call it Los Angelus! Never!) wasn't all that hard. Lots of vamps at the perimeter, but they're mostly looking out for either an army of demonoids when Richard finally decides to retake the city or humans trying to escape from here. I really wanted to dust some of those losers, but for now we're not looking for attention.

Picture it! Me! Not looking for attention! Something is seriously wrong with this road trip already.

It's night and there isn't a soul on the street. Plenty of vamps, though, but they don't bother us. I got the two Willows flanking me, game faces on and all, and my own rather well known mug is hidden underneath a black cowl.

I'm starting to hate this cloak and dagger stuff. I want some action.

The city is a mess, truth to tell. Most of the streetlights are smashed; many buildings still carry the marks from the short-lived battle six years ago when Richard first took the city. The office buildings look mostly intact, though there are hardly any lights burning inside. The apartment blocks, on the other hand, many of them look pretty trashed. A few are burning. Vamps smoking out the humans trying to find shelter inside.

Dark, trashed, the occasional screaming human fleeing from a burning house. Guess that's vampire paradise for you.

"Bored now," Willow One announces. "I wanna go see the fights."

"We should be there any moment, so keep your pants on." They are starting to get on my nerves with their constant remarks about how bored they are. Don't they think I'm bored? This fucking road trip was their idea, not mine. I came along to kick Angelus' butt, not for sightseeing.

"You sure about the pants part?" Willow Two asks me, wiggling her eyebrows.

God, if they weren't so much fun in bed...

We finally find out way toward the arena, which looks like it started out life as a baseball stadium. Someone ripped out the floodlights, though, and replaced them with big torches. No more ads on the outside either, and I bet they haven't got any hotdog stands inside. Maybe blood bars or something.

There is cheering inside.

"Looks like they started without us."

"Rude!"

At least we don't have to buy tickets for this joint. Vampire faces seem enough to get us inside without fuss, the guards at the entrance only giving us a cursory glance. There is a metal detector, though, so I guess Angelus isn't completely careless. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as we pass through the second gate and I know we just walked past some kind of warding. Probably something to look out for stakes and crossbows. Or maybe a demonoid detector. Who knows?

No one gets on our case, though. Lucky for them.

The place is really crowded, vampires wherever you look. Gotta be a few thousand, I'd wager, plus other assorted demon rabble. God, I'm itching to start slaying right here and now, so many juicy targets. A few too many, though. I'm not that stupid.

We get us some seats near the railing by scaring a few minions away and take a look at the action below.

"Look," Willow One says with glee. "It's sweet little Buffy."

It's B, all right, sweet little princess Buffy. Only the princess went out and turned slut, or so it looks like. Black leather all over, big knife in one hand, a wicked smile on her face...

I never thought I'd say this, but ... man, she looks really sexy.

She's facing a vampire that's big as a house and built like a bull, with a face to match. Even from here I can feel that he's old, several centuries. Probably quite strong. Not as old and strong as the smaller one behind him, though. The one with the sinister goatee and arrogant smile on his face.

Willow One whispers with a vamp sitting next to her and we learn the details. Goatee-man is called Azrael and he is here to challenge Angelus for control of the city. Angelus, as the challenged (in more ways than one, I'd say) has decided to let his champion fight for him. That would be B, I guess. Figures that 'Puppy' wouldn't get his own hands dirty.

I wish I had popcorn.

The battle begins and the big vamp charges her like a bull. Wrong strategy, man, wrong strategy. What do you expect? You think she'll stand there and take it like a man? She leaps over his back with ridiculous ease and slashes his back. Way to go, sister!

Wait a sec! Am I cheering for Buffy here? Something is seriously wrong with me. I mean, really, me cheering for Buffy?

The fight last about two minutes before B dusts the vamp. He never even touched her. Cheering aside, I have to admit that she's stayed in shape. Probably got a lot better than she was the last time we tangled. The only time, actually. She finished that brute off and looked like a ballet dancer doing it, barely even breaking a sweat by the looks of it.

I could give her a sweat, I bet. She wouldn't finish me off that easily. Still, seeing as she has about ten thousand vamps cheering her right now, even I have to admit that it wouldn't be the best idea to just barge down there and kick her ass right here and now.

Patience, Faith! The Boss always said I'd learn it some day.

"Was that your best?" A voice thunders out over the arena. What do you know, the big bastard himself, sitting in the VIP lounge on Conan the Barbarian's own throne. He has that arrogant smirk on his face I remember so well.

"I am impressed." It looks like goatee-man isn't finished yet. "You have managed to draw quite a skilled warrior into your camp, Angelus. But tell me. Does she do all your fighting for you these days?"

Oh, now he's going to challenge Angelus' manliness, I think.

"Face me demon to demon, Angelus! Or are you too much of a coward for that?"

I look over at the VIP booth, wondering what the big bastard will do. Six years ago, well, he pretty much kicked my ass. I can admit that. Not fair play, of course. Never should have expected it, either. Not from him. He played me, embarrassed me. I was shaken by what he did to B (though I'd never admit it to another living soul, or an undead for that matter) and really pissed. Nowhere near my best. A few months before that I pretty much kicked his ass, but he was still weakened from his little stint in Hell then. We never faced each other when we were both in top shape.

Angelus lounges in his throne, a confident smirk on his face.

"I want to see puppy fight," Willow Two whines.

"I think we'll get our money's worth," I murmur. I know that smirk on his face. He had the same just before he turned on me, the bastard.

As if on cue Angelus jumps out of the booth and lands on the arena sand, ripping his shirt off in the process. Show-off! Well, he does have a chest like a Greek god. What did I ever do to miss doing the wild thing with a guy like him? Yeah, right. Nothing I did. Except not being Buffy. Perfect, sweet little Buffy, who stands at the edge of the arena and watches her sugar daddy (or is that bloody daddy?) fight. God, I hate her.

"Shall we dance?" Angelus asks Azrael and they begin to circle each other. I try to figure out whether I'd feel glad if Angelus gets himself dusted here tonight. I mean, sure, would be nice. One asshole less in the world. But I kinda want to do it myself. Do him in, along with his sweet little B. Haven't decided which of them to do first so the other can watch.

Twenty seconds into the fight I know that him dying tonight is not an issue.

"Wow! Puppy can fight!" Willow Two seems genuinely impressed. Hell, I hate the guy and I'm impressed. He moves so fast I can barely see him, leaving goatee-man stumbling around like an idiot. He wasn't this fast the last time we tangled.

The audience is on its feet, the three of us included, when Angelus caves in Azrael's head with a single kick. Goatee-man falls to the ground, his face a bloody mess, and Angelus stands over him with a look on his face that I just have to tear off. God, I hate this bastard!

"ANGELUS! ANGELUS! ANGELUS!" Everyone around is chanting his name as if he's the fucking emperor. Or maybe we ended up on Monday Night Raw and he thinks he's the Rock. I look into the yellow eyes of the vamps all around me and I know that he has them. All of them. How did he do that? How did that bastard manage to make them all eat out of his hand like this?

The crowd explodes as Angelus tears off Azrael's head without even straining. The sucker explodes into dust and we have a winner. How did he get so strong? I exchange a look with the twin Willows and a moment later we're on our feet as well, cheering and applauding. Wouldn't do to be the only ones in a crowd of vampires who don't do it.

I hate this! I really do.

Half an hour later we're out of the arena and none of us is really all that happy anymore. Even the eternally chipper twin Willows look pretty down.

"Puppy has gotten mean," Willow Two complains. "I don't think he wants to play anymore."

I've gotta find out what happened with her and the Angel of that other universe.

"This sucks," I mutter. In a big way. We came here to have fun, to find B and A and kick their collective asses. Only now it doesn't really look like that's gonna happen. Not with B doing the mean leather bitch thing and Angelus having somehow mutated into the Hercules of vampires.

The Boss would probably tell me to get the Hell out of Dodge and wait until he got the firepower to take this place. Doesn't really matter how strong the big A is, won't help him if he gets blown to bits by an Adam Mk 4. Yeah, that would be the smart thing to do. Leave the big picture to the Boss and take care of the strays, like I've done these past six years.

I don't feel all that smart right now.

"Okay, we need to figure out what's going on here!" I turn to Willow One. "You used to be the big brain here, red. How did Angelus get this strong? I don't believe it's clean living."

Willow One looks intrigued, her brow furrowing in thought.

"Must be some kind of magical spell. Or maybe he got his hands on some really special blood. Like super blood or something."

We'll figure this out! I got the brains on my side this time. We'll make a plan and then we'll kick their undead asses all the way into the fucking Pacific.

First, though, I could use a drink.

THE END


	7. The Games Children Play

The Games Children Play (A Darkworld Tale)

#

_**Rating: Strong R for sex and violence**_

#

One of my high school teachers once told me that everyone is good at something. Everyone has some kind of thing that she does very well. The trick is finding out what that something is and making the most of it.

Me, the thing I'm really good at is killing.

I was fifteen when I first killed someone. Everyone makes such a big deal out of killing another human being. How much it will torment you after you do it, how much you will suffer for it. I certainly never gave a second thought to it. That first guy I killed tried to pull me into an alley to 'have fun'. Draw your own picture. I took his own knife and slit his throat while he was busy groping me.

By the time I was seventeen I was in a mental institution. I got a look at my file a while later. Made for fun reading material.

_Nero, Vanessa - born January 26, 1977_

_The subject suffers from a severe case of emotional detachment. She does not register other human beings as alive or relevant, views them as nothing but cardboard cutouts in a world that exists only for her sake. She knows exactly what she has done, but feels no remorse about any of her deeds and lacks even the most basic understanding of right and wrong. It is very doubtful she will ever be able to function in normal society. Lifetime detainment is recommended._

That was the condensed version, by the way. They used a lot more fancy words and phrases. Bottom line, I'm a sociopath and should be locked away until I croak, all for the betterment of the world, mankind, and dolphins everywhere.

Idiots! They never got me. I don't view other people as cardboards or things or whatever. They scream too much to be anything but alive. I simply don't care about them. Most people are so boring, killing them is doing them a favor. The world would certainly be better off with a few billion humans less.

I got out of the institution six years later. There I was, aged 23, out on the street in a world that was going straight to Hell. Monsters and demons came pouring out of a small suburban town about two hours away from LA and before you knew it the largest part of the country was ruled by a giant snake with a real phobia about germs, while my home town was taken over by a bloodsucking corpse in the shape of a really, really hot guy.

The latter, of course, is Angelus. Now my dad. I never had much use for my real dad. He hightailed it out of here when I was twelve. My mom always assured me that he loved me. As if I cared. I have a new dad now. One who gave me immortality and more power than my poor loser of a father ever dreamed of. I'm not Vanessa anymore. Vanessa is dead. I'm Nero, right hand of Angelus, one of the two most powerful and feared men in the world.

Not bad for a sociopath who is not fit for human society, right? Of course I'm not exactly human anymore. Bloodsucking corpse, that's me. And I love it, baby! There's nothing better than being a vampire.

Still, there is always room for improvement. Don't get me wrong, I love my life (or is that unlife now?) the way it is. But there is one other thing I'm really good at besides killing things. It's not really a skill. More like a trait of character I've never been able to get rid of.

Curiosity. If there is something secret, I just gotta know.

The best-kept secret in Los Angelus, the city of the undead, is the source of Angelus' power. Cruentos Dei. The Blood of God. It is daddy's means of ruling all the vampires around here, even those who are older and more powerful than he is. Though that last one might not be true any longer, seeing how he tore apart that idiot Azrael at the arena games last week.

Anyway, all vampires know that there is nothing better than Cruentos Dei. Take the rush of warm human blood, taken directly from the vein of a beautiful young boy, spiced with his fear, his mortal terror, and then multiply it by a hundred. Then you have the barest inkling of what it is like to taste the Blood of God. It's an incredible rush. For a few hours you are ten times as strong as you normally are, you can move so fast that a normal vampire will never even notice you before you tear out its throat. And damn, does it feel good.

The rush never lasts, though, and soon you want another one. We are addicted, all of us, even the members of his family. Most of us know it, many have accepted it. Angelus controls the supply, so he controls us. Most vamps will do anything for the next rush. And all of them would give everything if it meant finding out where it comes from.

Including Yours Truly.

Angelus is tightlipped about it, of course. Even to me, his own creation. Okay, I've been a member of his family for just over three years now, but I've proven myself to him many times over. I've killed vampires a hundred times my age for him. As I said, I'm good at killing things. Still he does not trust me enough. That stinks!

So I guess I have to find out on my own.

"Yes," the man above me moans. "Harder!"

As I said, I would do everything to find out where God's Blood comes from. Some of the things are even kind of fun. Some others, though, are not. Penn, Angelus' oldest childe, groans as he comes, shooting his dead sperm into my mouth as his fingers pull my head closer. Vampire cum has no taste. Just a cold, tasteless nothing that fills your mouth. I swallow it down and look up at him, a look of bliss on his face.

Penn is over two centuries old. First-made of Angelus. If anyone knows, he will.

"Who'd have guessed that mouth of yours could be put to such a good use," he sighs, looking down at me.

I rise up from my knees, giving him an eyeful of my stark-naked body along the way. Penn is tough and strong, but not the smartest cookie around. Rumor has it that he spent most of his two centuries killing people that reminded him of his family. Especially his father, whom he really hated. Talk about wasting a perfectly good eternal life.

I move forward to straddle his lap, his hands moving along my thighs and up to my breasts. He is a skilled lover, no complaints there. Two centuries of experience can turn even the most ill-equipped of men into a Don Juan (and Penn is anything but ill-equipped). Still, I wouldn't have shared his bed (or chair, in this case) if he didn't have something I wanted.

"You promised me a treat," I whisper into his ear, trailing kisses down his neck.

"So I did." He kisses the hollow of my throat, his hands busily working my breasts as I feel him harden beneath me once more. Another round until he is ready to talk?

"You're a feisty one, Nero," he says, sucking my breasts. "You really want to know where God's Blood comes from?"

I never said it in so many words. Wouldn't do for Penn to get ideas about ratting out on me to score points with Angelus.

"Don't I deserve a treat?" I reach down to knead his hardening member, moving it close to my core once more.

"You certainly do, darling." With a violent thrust he impales me. Penn is big, very big. Wouldn't know it by looking at him, but he is hung like a horse. Would hurt many a mortal woman with that thing. Not me, though. Vampires are hard to hurt and vampire sex isn't fun if there isn't some pain involved.

"God's Blood then," he spits out between thrusts, driving both of us closer to the edge. Okay, I stand corrected. This is fun.

"I have no idea where it comes from."

It takes me a moment to realize what he just said. Damn, he is good, almost managed to make me forget why I'm fucking him. But then his words penetrate. Just a second too late for me to leave him unsatisfied. He comes and one of his hands flicks my clit, throwing me over the edge as well.

I'm barely down from my climax when I jump away from him on wobbly knees, glaring.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"It's not a difficult sentence, dear." He smiles in post-coital bliss. "It means I don't know. Not a thing. Nada."

"But... but you're his oldest childe. You have to..."

"No one knows," Penn interrupts me, rising from the chair we just fucked on. "Except maybe Dru. Who knows what she sees in those visions of hers? I wouldn't try pumping her for information, though. That whole mad child-bride thing she's got going, well, I wouldn't go so far as to call it an act, but she is nowhere near as naive as she appears. You don't want to mess with her."

I don't believe this! He doesn't know. I don't think he's lying to me, either. Penn isn't that good a liar, I've seen him do it and he stinks at it. Damn, if the fuck hadn't been so good I would be really pissed right now.

Shit! I AM PISSED!

With a growl I lounge at Penn, aiming to tackle him to the ground and drain his blood until he is weak as a kitten. Then do some really nasty things to him. Unfortunately Penn is no pushover. He twists us over in midair and lands on top of me, growling right back.

"What do you think you're doing, darling?" he hisses. "Think you're tough enough to play with the monsters? I killed a hundred little girls like you, Nero. You're nothing special!"

I try to struggle free, but he's got too good a hold on me. After a moment, though, he lets go on his own, rising with a smile on his once-again human face.

"I won't tell on you, Nero. It will be much more fun to see you fall flat on your face without outside assistance. Believe me, Angelus has patience in but one area. Killing people. He doesn't suffer fools for long."

"I'm not a fool!" I jump back to my feet, baring my fangs at him.

"Oh, but you are. I think you will find that out soon enough. The only question is whether Angelus will be satisfied showing you the error of your ways, or whether he'll just do away with you. I'll be there watching."

With that he turns his back on me, heading over to the far side of the room where his latest obsession has been tied to a table all this time. A vampire from the late Azrael's entourage, a beautiful dark-haired woman. Her nude body is already covered with dozens of cross-shaped scars.

"You remind me of a sister I once had," Penn whispers to her as he carves another cross into the side of her neck. The vampire whimpers.

#

Dressed, pissed off beyond measure, I try to come up with a new idea. Penn doesn't know. Drusilla might, but Penn needn't have warned me away from her. Dru certainly isn't your average vampire. From what I've learned about the family history she was driven mad before Angelus turned her, and gifted with Second Sight to boot. She killed a Slayer in under a minute, or so I'm told. Just made the girl look into her eyes and then slit her throat.

No, Drusilla is not someone I will try and pump for info. But who does that leave? The only other person that is close to Angelus is his pet Slayer, Buffy. To tell you the truth, I never thought much about her. She was his sex toy, nothing more. Until last week when I saw her fight in the arena.

Talk about violence in motion. Watching her take down what should have been my kill didn't piss me off, though I expected it to. No, it made me hot. I'm not one for the girls, but this chick... a woman could be tempted here, I tell you. She bleeds off violence and passion even when she's just standing still.

The story goes that she was once the best and brightest champion of the goody two-shoes. Even threw down with Angelus and sent him packing. But then daddy came back and captured her. No one saw her for over four years and when she finally came back she was his willing and eager lover, killer, whatever. No one knows what he did to her during those four years to make her like this. I'm honestly not sure I want to know. Angelus isn't called the Sadist for nothing.

Buffy could know, yes. But with the amount of brainwashing Angelus must have subjected her to I doubt she would tell me a word if she did. Would probably ram a stake into my heart the moment the question cleared my mouth.

Smartest move would be to quit this idea before it really gets me into trouble. But when have I ever been smart?

#

The Hollywood mansion Angelus uses as his home leaves quite a few options for sneaking around. Maybe ways for the husband to sneak into the maid's quarters, who knows? I don't care as long as it provides me with the perfect opportunity to sneak into daddy's private chambers.

Fully half of the house is barred to anyone but Angelus and his little Buffy. He probably isn't stupid enough to store God's Blood here, but I might find a clue. So I sneak. The things one does out of curiosity.

The wing is silent except for some faint noises from the master bedroom. Is Angelus banging his favorite sex toy right now? Would be perfect. I don't think even he is so paranoid as to fuck with one eye open. No, he's got better things to do right now. Much more enjoyable things that he never did with me, only with her. Only with Buffy.

Oh damn! Here is the curiosity again. Angelus never fucks anyone but Buffy. I mean, she looks hot and all, a lot stronger than she looks, but she is still a mortal. How good can she be? Why hasn't he ever ordered me to his bed? I certainly wouldn't have minded. He is built like a Greek god.

I just have to see them fuck.

Sneaking closer to the master bedroom I dare a peek through the half-open door. The room is big, all black marble with white veins. No windows, just a big fireplace and a huge four-poster bed. The latter currently occupied by two nude bodies entwined to the point where it's hard to tell one from the other. Except that one is a lot paler than the other.

Angelus pounds into his Buffy with enough force to shatter a normal human woman, but the Slayer gives back in kind. Watching them like this is enough to make me wet. They look beautiful together, I have to admit that. Like a painting of violent passion come to life. Without conscious effort my hands slides into my pants, finding my dripping center.

With a growl Angelus vamps out and sinks his fangs into Buffy's neck.

All thoughts of getting myself off vanish in a heartbeat. Angelus' body is shaking with rapture, his skin positively glowing, power bleeding off him in waves. This isn't just an orgasm, not just the rush of drinking blood.

It's the same rush I see in everyone who drinks God's Blood.

I run away from the bedroom as fast as I can, hoping that both of them were too busy with each other to notice someone standing outside their door. Damn, why didn't I see this before? I mean, everyone always speculated that it would have to be the blood of some kind of mythological creature. Some said an angel, others said some kind of half-god or deity.

Close, but no cigar. It's the Slayer. It's her blood.

No, this can't be right. Many vampires have killed Slayers before. They have certainly tasted their blood, too. Shouldn't this have turned them into super-vamps then? Angelus' errand childe Spike has two Slayers to his name and he certainly isn't more powerful than a locomotive.

I'm still missing something here. It can't just be Buffy's blood alone. There has to be some other ingredient, maybe something that Angelus introduced into her blood to make it more powerful. His own blood maybe? Could it be that easy? Angelus is descendant from the most powerful of all vampire bloodlines, the Order of Aurelius. Maybe he gave Buffy a sip of his blood, mixing a strong demonic power with something that was touched by some kind of higher force. Or maybe it's something he picked up during his long stint in hell, or maybe...

I'll have to look into that further. Without anyone noticing. I haven't lived nearly long enough to get myself killed over this. But it is certainly worth the risk.

Buffy is the source of Cruentos Dei.

Well, Slayer, like it or not, you're gonna get a new best pal. I just know we're gonna get along great, girlfriend.

THE END


End file.
